


We'll Keep on Fighting 'til the End

by Haydenn11



Series: Good Omens Greatest Hits [15]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Discorporated Crowley (Good Omens), Discorporation (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, I promise I won't be so mean to Crowley next week., M/M, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Song: We Are The Champions (Queen), Song: We Will Rock You, Songfic, The Author Apologizes, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29765463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haydenn11/pseuds/Haydenn11
Summary: 15. We Will Rock You/ We are the Champions.“You are here, demon Crowley, to face punishment for your crimes against your fellow demonzzz.”“I committed no crime! It was self defence. Besides,” Crowley swallowed to keep his voice from shaking, “I’ve done my sentence. You lot already sentenced me to a bathtub of holy water and I got in it, willingly. S’not my fault it didn’t work.”“It is your fault.” Hastur croaked. “You think you’re such a big man, but you’re a fucking disgrace. If you weren’t such a bastard, that water would have dissolved you in seconds.”“M’afraid I don’t see the problem with that, mate.” Crowley shrugged, trying to act casual.“It izzz unimportant.” Beelzebub said, cutting off whatever retort Hastur had on his tongue. “The point izz we realizzzed that even though we cannot permanently destroy you, there is nothing stopping uzz from destroying you temporarily.”“Painfully and repeatedly.” Hustur added with glee.“Right. Well then,” Crowley tried to breathe, tried to cling desperately to bravado, to be suave and brave and unbothered as he knew Aziraphale had been when he was in this position. His voice was tight when we finally continued, “How many times?”
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Greatest Hits [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2069535
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	We'll Keep on Fighting 'til the End

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warnings: Major Character injury/discorportation. Graphic descriptions of violence and torture. 
> 
> Okay, so this week I have a double feature. We Will Rock You and We are the Champions were released together with the intention that they go together. They are almost always played one after the other and together they tell a complete story. Therefore, for this fic, I decided to incorporate both songs into the same story. This one is told from both Crowley's and Aziraphale's perspectives as well.  
> Please pay attention to ratings, content warnings, and tags. This one gets pretty graphic. I apologize for beating Crowley up two weeks in a row. I promise I'll be nicer to him next week.  
> I had fun writing this, I hope you have fun reading it. As always, comments and feedback are very much appreciated.

[ We Will Rock You by Queen ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-tJYN-eG1zk&ab_channel=QueenOfficial)

[We are the Champions by Queen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=04854XqcfCY&ab_channel=QueenOfficial)

* * *

_Thud thud thud._

_Thud thud thud._

_Thud thud thud._

Crowley didn’t know where the noise was coming from. Perhaps it was the sound of his own frantic heart or perhaps the pounding in his head. He opened his eyes and found it was neither. 

He was in hell. Literally. He lay crumpled on the floor of a dark, dirty courtroom surrounded by dozens of demons all stomping and clapping and clamoring for… he didn’t know what, but he suspected it wasn’t good. 

“Demon Crowley,” a bored voice drawled over the din, “how nice of you to join uzzz.”

Crowley lifted his head and squinted into the gloom. A short figure sat on a throne-like chair on a dias at the front of the room. A swarm of flies buzzed about their head. “Lord Beelzebub. What a truly unpleasant surprise.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, scum.” 

Crowley rolled his eyes behind dark glasses at the sound of Hastur’s croak and felt the throbbing in his head intensify as he did. He had a vague and distant memory of a sickening crack, searing pain, and an unexpected acquaintance with the sidewalk. Pulling himself to his feet, he surveyed the demons surrounding him. The crowd had quieted some when Beelzebub spoke, but they were still stomping and shouting for something. Crowley swallowed hard when he realized it was him. They all were chomping at the bit to get at him. 

“Is anybody going to tell me why I’m here?”

Beelzebub leaned forward on their throne and smiled with a mouth full of maggots.

_Thud thud thud._

_Thud thud thud._

_Thud thud thud._

* * *

Aziraphale looked up from his book and was surprised to find that it was dark. The lamp on his desk was on, illuminating his text and his backroom, but the rest of the shop was only dimly lit by the streetlights outside. 

He twisted in his chair to look at the sofa, fully expecting to see Crowley slumped in it and scrolling his phone. He had called hours ago to say he was coming over, promising to stop at Aziraphale’s favorite bakery on his way. It was not uncommon for Crowley to let himself in and, upon finding Aziraphale engrossed in some book, sit quietly and wait for his friend to return to the land of the living. 

Crowley wasn’t on the sofa. 

Aziraphale inhaled and smelled a faint trace of smoke. Had Crowley been here and left and he hadn’t noticed at all? Or was the smell just a lingering side effect of Crowley’s increased presence in the shop in the months since the world didn’t end? Azirapahle stood and wandered through the shop, peaking around the shelves for a demon who had, perhaps, finally been bored enough to pick up a book. 

Nothing. 

He made it to the front of the shop and saw the Bentley parked outside. So, Crowley _was_ here. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale called for him over his shoulder and waited for a response. None came. A sinking feeling washed through him as he turned once more to confront the Bentley outside his shop. 

Something was wrong. 

Outside, the smell of smoke was stronger, but it wasn’t Crowley’s warm, comforting scent. This smell was mixed sulfur and tainted with something damp and musty. It made Aziraphale’s nose wrinkle. 

The door to the Bentley was ajar. Aziraphale’s heart dropped at the sight of the takeaway box on the sidewalk, open, with its sugary contents smeared across the concrete. Panic rose in his chest like bile. He glanced frantically around the street for his demon, knowing full well he wasn’t there, realizing as he did where he must be. Aziraphale looked back at their ruined dessert. Hot rage spread through him, quelling the panic, while sparks of divine energy danced off his fingertips. 

* * *

_Thud thud thud._

_Thud thud thud._

_Thud thud thud._

“You are here, demon Crowley, to face punishment for your crimes against your fellow demonzzz.”

“I committed no crime! It was self defence. Besides,” Crowley swallowed to keep his voice from shaking, “I’ve done my sentence. You lot already sentenced me to a bathtub of holy water and I got in it, willingly. S’not my fault it didn’t work.”

“It is your fault.” Hastur croaked. “You think you’re such a big man, but you’re a fucking disgrace. If you weren’t such a bastard, that water would have dissolved you in seconds.”

“M’afraid I don’t see the problem with that, mate.” Crowley shrugged, trying to act casual. 

“It izzz unimportant.” Beelzebub said, cutting off whatever retort Hastur had on his tongue. “The point izz we realizzzed that even though we cannot _permanently_ destroy you, there is nothing stopping uzz from destroying you temporarily.”

“Painfully and repeatedly.” Hustur added with glee. 

“Right. Well then,” Crowley tried to breathe, tried to cling desperately to bravado, to be suave and brave and unbothered as he knew Aziraphale had been when he was in this position. His voice was tight when we finally continued, “How many times?”

“Until it izzn’t fun anymore.” Beelzebub shrugged. 

“We expect it will be fun for quite some time.” Hastur leered.

“Right,” Crowley said again. He had been subjected to many of Hell’s torments over the millenia. He knew what he was in store for, but he couldn’t see any way out of this, not when it was just him against the legions of Hell. He tried to buy time, “Will I be allowed to defend myself?”

“No.” Hastur scoffed. 

But, Beelzebub considered him for a moment. “Actually, I think it will be more fun to watch you struggle and fail.”

Clawed hands seized fistfuls of his jacket and pulled Crowley backwards, hauling him across the room to the far wall. Rusty iron manacles hung there, and the demon dragging him began to trap Crowley’s wrists with them. 

“I thought you said I could defend myself!” 

Beelzebub shrugged. “You can. If you can work out how to do that while chained to a wall.”

“Bring in the first punishment!” Hastur shouted. 

The crowd of demons resumed their stomping and clapping and shouting at this. Crowley felt cold iron bite into his wrists while he looked around for whatever torment they were about to inflict upon him. He heard the rattling of chains and the scraping of a heavy stone gate being lifted. 

Then he heard a growl. 

A hellhound, huge and black and bloodthirsty, stalked out of an opening in the wall across from where he was chained. Crowley’s heart started throwing itself against the inside of his ribs. His wrists mimicked the movement, only against the chains that held him. They were tight and fastened far too securly. Crowley’s struggling had no effect whatsoever. He snapped his fingers desperately and nothing happened. 

“Nice try!” Beelzebub called while the demons around them dissolved into raucous laughter. “They’re miracle proof, you idiot!” 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” Crowley struggled against the chains again in vain. The hellhound padded closer, picking up it’s pace and eyeing him with malicious interest. Crowley hissed at it. The hellhound reached him and sniffed at his snakeskin boots. Crowley kicked it in the head for all he was worth. 

The hellhound staggered back for a moment, then locked on Crowley with glowing red eyes. The beast crouched, ready to strike, the noise it made made Crowley’s blood run cold. It was a low, menacing growl, the kind that meant business, the kind that started in one throat and ended deep in the back of… 

The hellhound lunged faster than Crowley could react, not that he could have stopped it. Powerful jaws closed around his throat. Crowley only had a second to register the searing pain of fangs and ripping flesh before the hellhound pulled away, taking Crowley esophagus along with it. He watched with gradually dimming vision as the beast shook his bloody windpipe like a victory banner. He was aware that his frantic heart had slowed down, as if it were savoring it’s last few beats. 

_Thud thud thud._

_Thud thud thud._

_Thud._

_Thud._

_Thu–_

* * *

Aziraphale entered the lobby with his heart in his throat. He stared at the down escalator for a moment, hovering on the edge of indecision. He had been to Hell before in Crowley’s body, but that had been the point. There was nothing Hell could do to him as Crowley that would actually hurt him. This time was different. This time Hell actually had Crowley in their clutches and anything they did to him would hurt Aziraphale more than he liked to think about. This time, Aziraphale would be entering as himself, and descending willingly into a pit of hellfire wielding fiends would could destroy him in an instant. 

One angel against the armies of the damned was a hell of a challenge, but it was one Aziraphale had no intention of losing. He swallowed, forcing his heart back into his chest where it belonged, and stepped onto the escalator. 

* * *

_Thud thud thud._

_Thud thud thud._

_Thud thud thud._

Crowley came to with a shuddering gasp. He opened his eyes to almost the same hellscape he had closed them too. The demons were still surrounding him, stomping and clapping and whooping at his defeat. The hellhound was being wrangled back to it’s kennel, Crowley’s esophagus still in it’s mouth like a grotesque chew toy. Crowley’s recently discorportated corpse hung on the wall, mangled and bloody. 

That was a surreal sight. Crowley grasped his throat to make sure it was real and whole. It was. He ran his fingers through his hair, patted his chest and legs, all of him was present and accounted for. He had even been recorporated with his sunglasses on. 

“Welcome back.” Beelzebub drawled. 

“Well that was fun.” Crowley said, hoisting himself to his feet and turning to face Beelzebub and Hastur. He hoped without any real conviction that bravado might be enough to get this over with quickly. Perhaps if acted unaffected, Beelzebub would get bored and let him go. More likely, Beelzebub would get bored and lock him up until the next time they wanted to kill something. 

“Oh, that was just the warm up act.” Hastur croaked. “You won’t be such a flash bastard when you see what we’ve got in store for you next. We went through the memos you sent about the Spanish Inquisition.” 

Crowley tried not to react as a couple of disposable demons wheeled in a monstrous rack, the likes of which he had not seen in at least 500 years, and which he had tried very hard not to see at the time. 

“We should thank you for your attention to detail. Your memozz were most instructive.” Beelzebub scrutinized his face, no doubt looking for signs of fear. “What do you have to say about it?”

“Uh, I think,” Crowley looked at the device and tried not to think about how much pain he was about to be in. He couldn’t say what he really thought, so he went for cheek, “I think that this is a new jacket and should hate to ruin it.” 

A few minutes later, Crowley was stripped down to his underthings and strapped to the rack. Hastur stood over him leering with eager hands grasping the handle of the device’s crank. 

“Ready?” Hastur asked.

“As I’ll ever– AHHHH!” 

Hastur turned the crank hard, rapidly pulling the straps tight and pulling Crowley’s limbs with them. The gears made a series of sickening thuds as they slammed into each other. Crowley screamed, more out of surprise than pain, his limbs were taunt and uncomfortable, but not quite painful… yet. 

Hastur let out a cruel, croaking laugh. “I told you you wouldn’t be such a cocky bastard. Ready for more?”

Crowley didn’t say anything, but Hastur took his silence as an affirmative. He continued to turn the crank, slowly this time, but a steady pace. Every time a gear slipped into a new notch it made an unpleasant thud. Crowley chose to focus on sound instead of his stretching limbs and bit his lip to keep from screaming again. 

Thud thud thud. 

Thud thud thud. 

Thud thud thud. 

* * *

Aziraphale wandered through the dingy, crowded halls of Hell and found it strangely deserted. He expected to encounter resistance or at least see demons, but the cramped offices were eerily empty. 

“AHHHH!”

A scream rent the air and Azirphale went completely still, poised to strike, waiting for an attack. None came. Aziraphale continued in the direction of the sound and realized with horror that he was following the path he’d taken last time he was here to the dark, sinister courtroom where Hell had tried and failed to execute Crowley. 

“AHHHHHH!” 

Another scream, more anguished than the first, split the silence and Aziraphale broke into a full out run to the end of the hallway and through the door to the courtroom. He burst into the room and exactly no one noticed. All the demons were crowded around something Aziraphale couldn’t see. They were stomping and clapping and jeering at it and Aziraphale had a sinking feeling he knew what, who, it was. He glanced around the room, trying to come up with a plan when he spotted him. 

Time slowed down. The jeering demons became a distant memory as did the thing they were jeering at. Crowley was hanging on the wall, only it wasn’t Crowley, it couldn’t be. The red hair was sweat drenched and plastered to his too pale face. His head lolled limply against one of his arms, which were chained to the wall above him. His glasses had fallen off and his snakelike eyes stared at the floor, blank and unseeing. The worst part was his throat. It was… gone. There was nothing but a grotesque hole where Crowley’s lovely neck had once been. Blood dripped down his snakeskin boots and pooled on the floor. Aziraphale fell to his knees. 

“AHHHHHHH!”

The scream brought Aziraphale back to himself. He tore his eyes away from the horrific thing on the wall and turned his attention back to the jeering, stomping demons. From his new position on the floor, he could see through the gaps of the demons’ legs. He caught a glimpse of red hair and yellow eyes. Crowley was strapped to some device, blood on his face like he’d bitten his lip, and screaming in a way that could only be described as blood-curdling. 

Aziraphale had no time to contemplate the mystery of the two Crowleys. He only knew that one of them was alive and in pain. He stood and pulled on a thread of divine energy, pulling his rage down from Heaven and hurtling it toward the group of demons. His smite hit the group with almighty force and the demons either disintegrated or were hurled backwards. Aziraphale rushed to Crowley. 

“Angel?” Crowley whispered, wonder and disbelief in his voice. 

“I’m here.” Aziraphale reassured, cupping his face gently with both hands. He looked down at the device. “What in Heaven is this?”

“It’s no bed of roses, let me tell you.” Crowley laughed weakly. 

Beelzebub and Hastur began to stir where they had landed temporarily stunned by Aziraphale smite. Aziraphale rushed to unstrap Crowley’s arms and legs, wincing at how contorted they looked. It didn’t appear that any of his joints had actually dislocated yet, but bones and tendons were visible under his skin, stretched and pulled with impossible strain. 

“Come on, dear, we have to go.” Aziraphale said when all the straps were undone. 

“Ngh. I don’t know if I can walk just yet, angel.”

“I didn’t ask if you could walk.” Aziraphale slid his arms around Crowley’s thin frame and lifted him bridal style. They were at the door before the other demons were conscious enough to register that they were leaving. 

“Oi! Someone seize them!” Beelzebub shouted. 

Aziraphale heard thundering footsteps behind him but he didn’t pause or look back, he just took off towards the escalator, holding Crowley tightly to him. The shouts and jeers behind him only spurred him onwards. He bobbed and weaved through the maze of cluttered desks. The demons behind him were gaining. He could hear their footsteps thundering closer like a harbinger of impending doom. It didn’t matter, though. He could see the escalator. If they could only make it back to Earth...

A ball of hellfire whizzed past his head. It missed him and exploded against the wall, setting fire to one of the demotivational posters. The heat and force of it caused Aziraphale to stumble and trip. He and Crowley came crashing to the ground. Aziraphale scrambled to his feet and turned around to see Hastur leading the charge of demons, his right hand engulfed in hellfire. 

“Did you really think you could come down here, grab your boyfriend, and just walk back out again?”

Aziraphale straightened up, fixing his face into an expression far braver than he felt, “I did, rather.”

“Then you’re a bigger idiot than he is.” Hastur laughed, “I supposed it works out alright for us, though, having you both here. It will be so much fun to make him watch while we break you.”

“You don’t understand, do you?” Aziraphale scoffed and gestured between himself and Crowley, “We are the champions of The Almighty. We defended Her ineffable plan and we alone were blessed so that you cannot hurt us. There is nothing you can do to us that will have any sort of permanence, and you risk Her retribution by trying. You can pursue us all you want, but we will keep fighting until the end. There is no way we can lose.” 

“So you say,” croaked Hastur, “but, you know? I never did see your little hellfire trick for myself, so forgive me if I’m skeptical.”

Hastur cocked his arm back and hurled another fireball directly at Aziraphale with inhuman speed. The angel tried to dodge, but before he could so much as flinch, everything froze. 

* * *

Crowley’s head swam with pain that radiated throughout his entire body. He was only dimly aware of gentle arms lifting him and carrying him through the halls of Hell. He felt safe and warm despite the danger he knew he must be in. Until, of course, he was tumbling to the concrete floor. 

He watched through dazed and squinted eyes as his angel faced down Hastur and all the demons of Hell. He tried not to react to Aziraphale's speech about them being God’s own champions, but was shocked to hear the angel’s blasphemous lie delivered with a straight face. He registered Hastur’s movement, the subtle shift in his arm, before Aziraphale did. The ball of hellfire had barely left Hastur’s fingers before Crowley was snapping his own and stopping time. 

“What in Heaven?” Aziraphale gasped, clutching his heaving chest and assessing that he was still on one piece. 

“Just a little demonic miracle of my own.” Crowley said, weakly. “I don’t know how long I can keep it up for, though. Help me up.”

“Can you stand?” Crowley nodded and Aziraphale helped him to his feet. “There you are, dear, up you get. Are you alright? Good. Let’s leave, please.”

“One sec.” Crowley hobbled over to where Hastur stood frozen like a statue. He plucked the ball of hellfire from the air, spun it around and positioned it so that it would blow up in Hastur’s face as soon as time started again. Then he snapped his fingers and the words “Losers! :p” appeared in large, glowing letters on the floor. “Okay, now we can go.”

“Was that really necessary, dear?” Aziraphale slipped a strong arm around his waist and helped him hobble to the escalator. 

“Considering I just had my throat ripped out by a monster and nearly had every joint in my body dislocated, I’m going to go with, yes.”

“I was wondering about that, actually. I saw your… previous corporation. What were they trying to do to you, anyway?”

Crowley explained about Hell’s plan to discorporate him over and over again in increasingly creative ways for their own entertainment on their way up the escalator. When they made it out onto the street, Crowley snapped again to restart time and Aziraphale snapped to transport them back to the bookshop. 

“That’s just sick,” Aziraphale finally said after nestling Crowley into the sofa with a miracled blanket and several ice packs for his hyperextended joints. 

“Well, their demons, angel, so I think _sick_ is the least we can expect from them.”

Crowley closed his eyes and snuggled into the pillow Aziraphale slipped under his head. He heard Aziraphale settle into his chair and they were both quiet for a long time. 

“Do you think they’ll try again?” Aziraphale whispered when Crowley was almost asleep. 

“Mmm? Might do.”

“Should we leave? London, I mean. I could sell the bookshop and we could go… I don’t know, South Downs is nice.”

Crowley chuckled. “I don't think Hell is going to be put off by us moving a few counties over, but sure, angel. If you want to move into a little country cottage in South Downs, I’ll come with you.” 

Crowley heard a sudden movement, felt strong hands cradle his face, and soft lips press against his forehead. 

“I don’t care,” Aziraphale murmured into his hair, “I don’t care where we go. I don’t how many times they come. I will smite them back to Hell every single time. They _cannot_ have you.”

Crowley opened his eyes and pulled back to look into the angel’s. There were tears there. 

“To the end. Right, angel?” Crowley asked in a breathless whisper. “That’s what you said?”

Aziraphale ran a gentle thumb over his swollen bottom lip and pressed an even gentler kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“To the end.”

**Author's Note:**

> [ Follow me on Tumblr!](https://haydenn.tumblr.com/)


End file.
